


The Dancing Detective

by CaptainDog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDog/pseuds/CaptainDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John discovers something about Sherlock, and decides to conduct a few experiments/annoy the hell out of his flatmate</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dancing Detective

John stared incredulously at Sherlock, who paid him no mind. He continued singing along with the cab's blaring radio.

“- _pedicure on our toes toes/tryin' on all our clothes clothes_ -”

“I cannot believe,” John said “that you know all the words to a Ke$ha song.”

“I don't. I've no idea who that is.”

“You do. You were singing along just now.”

“Was I?” Sherlock asked and appeared to think about it. “So I was. What of it?”

John chuckled. “It's just not the sort of thing I'd expect you to know. I mean, it's rubbish music.”

Sherlock huffed impatiently.

“It's impossible to delete music, particularly contemporary popular. It sticks in the head. Stop laughing.” he snapped.

“You you know any Lady Gaga? Rihanna?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

*

For once, it was John that was bored and not Sherlock. The consulting detective stared into his microscope and made careful alterations to the mixtures in petri dishes surrounding his workspace. John, not in at the surgery that day, sat in his armchair, hoping despite himself that someone would commit a horrendous murder. When a neat little idea popped into his head.

“D'you mind if I put some music on?” he called as he dug out his computer. Sherlock hummed quietly, which really could be interpreted any way. John decided that it was assent and opened up Pandora. He idly checked the news, keeping Sherlock in his peripheral vision as the music started, and waited.

 _-if it feels right/and aim for my heart/if you feel like-_

He stole a discreet glance at Sherlock. He quickly looked back at the screen, pretending that his giggle was to do with what he was reading. The sight – and sound – of Sherlock singing quietly along with _Moves Like Jagger_ was priceless. Experiment one: a success.

*

 _Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shot! Everybody!_

“John, what is that?” Sherlock asked with a look of disgust.

“Huh? Oh, that. It's my phone. Erm, Harry's calling.”

“That's your ringtone for Harry?” Sherlock smirked. “Are you going to answer?”

“No, we're on a case. I don't have time to coddle her.”

“Do you mind turning it off, then?”

“Nah, it's almost over anyway.” Sherlock didn't look happy, but was too focussed on the cipher at hand to properly care. It was not, however, almost over. The song continued. John carefully watched Sherlock's mouth as the man jotted each letter of the message onto a pad. Sure enough, it started moving in sync with the lyrics. When Harry finally gave up, Sherlock grumbled, “Turn your phone to silent; it ruins my concentration.” without looking up from his findings. John grinned as he complied. Experiment two: a success.

*

John glanced at Sherlock over the top of his laptop. He was writing up their latest case while Sherlock dozed, exhausted from the mental and physical strains of the locked door double murder.

“Mind if I put on some music? Help me get into the writing groove.”

This wasn't entirely a lie, but usually it was Sherlock's violin that got him motivated, not what he was queuing up on Pandora. Sherlock waved a hand in a gesture of 'do as you must'. John found himself typing in time to the beat as the song started.

 _-can't read my, no he can't read my poker face-_

Since Sherlock's eyes were closed, John allowed himself a wide grin. From the rise and fall of his belly, John could tell that Sherlock was not only mouthing the words, but actually singing along with Lady Gaga. He waited a moment, and then paused the song while fidgeting as if to get up.

“-hot pair we will be/A little gambling is fun when you're...” Sherlock broke off at John's badly suppressed snort. His eyes snapped open.

“What's so funny?” He fixed John with a glare, daring him to speak.

“Um, nothing. Sorry.”

They stared at each other for a moment, John's face growing red. _Oh god, he's angry._

“Would you mind typing that up elsewhere? The incessant clicking is annoying.”

“Sure.” John said. “No problem. Enjoy your nap.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he took his computer upstairs. Experiment three: almost a failure.

*

Sherlock was playing his violin when John came down for breakfast. He switched from his tuneless experiments to something John couldn't place as he popped bread into the toaster. It sounded familiar.

“What's that you're playing?” John asked. Sherlock didn't answer. John shrugged and dug around for a clean mug. Once he'd found one, he looked up to see Sherlock's mouth moving as he played. John almost dropped the mug as he read his flatmate's lips.

 _-Kiss me k-k-kiss me/Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison/Take me-_

Sherlock, seeing John's reaction, just smiled and stared him down. John went back to his breakfast, still dumbfounded. He nodded his head in time to the beat Sherlock was tapping out with his foot.

The song ended as John spread butter over his toast. John expected him to quit, or possibly move on to more dignified music. He didn't. John dropped his knife and stared at him.

Sherlock's eyes were closed as if in reverence. His body jerked with each bow stroke, his hips more than entirely necessary. He began to move more and more until there was no denying that the consulting detective was dancing.

“Come on, John.” Sherlock called in between his silent singing. He grinned. “It's getting to the good part.”

“What, dance?”

“Of course.” Sherlock sang aloud now. “Next thing you know/Shawty got low low low low-”

His baritone almost made the song sound classy. What really took the cake, though, was Sherlock swinging his hips and shimmying lower and lower while still sawing away at the violin. John had to take a moment to wrap his head around the fact that Sherlock. Got. Low.

John hit the floor as well, but not because he'd started dancing. He'd just fallen out of his chair laughing.


End file.
